


Bound Fast By Cords Of Affliction

by Elisara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisara/pseuds/Elisara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day, another abduction. This time at least Stiles has company. But Isaac's memories aren't making things easy for either one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound Fast By Cords Of Affliction

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt on the twkinkmeme: _Isaac and Stiles are trapped together in a small space, and Isaac freaks out. PTSD flashback/panic attack. Stiles comforts Isaac, cuddling him, giving him kisses. Established relationship or not. Smut is cool but not required._ Beta'd by my lovely Sarah. Dedicated to the Stisaac Pack on Tumblr. Love you guys!
> 
> This work contains fairly graphic memories of child abuse. Please be aware of this if you have triggers for such.

Stiles bit his lip and heaved another half-hearted kick at the side of the box he found himself in. The metal sides were long and high, but not very wide, and uncomfortably chill. At least he could be grateful that he could sit up fully and stretch his legs out in front of him, even if he couldn't stand. The size of the space, though, meant that he really wasn't able to get enough pressure behind his kicks to break himself out, despite the fact that there were cracks around the top of the box large enough to let in a tiny bit of light. Whatever had been used to lock the lid was holding firm. He had no idea how long he'd been locked in the enclosure, but the rumbling in his stomach was telling him it was most definitely past dinner time. He was really regretting the fact that he'd skipped lunch in order to get just a little more studying time in before his Chemistry test, but he'd planned to grab something greasy and unhealthy on the way back to the apartment he was sharing with Scott and Isaac.

At least he knew he'd be missed fairly quickly. It was his turn to cook dinner and neither Scott nor Isaac ever made plans to be away when it was Stiles' night to cook. And unlike Scott, Stiles never tried to get out of the responsibility by pretending he forgot it was his turn (which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that Isaac always looked at him like he was a deity sent to earth every time he sat down to one of Stiles' meals).

"Why is this my life?" he muttered, shifting around in an attempt to get at least somewhat comfortable. It wasn't that he'd been kidnapped _again_. Stiles had been abducted so often that now even Derek had ceased the lectures and taken to simply sighing in exasperation every time he pulled Stiles' ass out of another metaphorical fire. Although, honestly, Stiles felt like he ought to get more credit for the number of times he'd saved _himself_ from these situations, as well as the number of times he'd managed to avoid them altogether.

So, even though he never actually became accustomed to being knocked unconscious or drugged or threatened with evisceration if he tried to escape, there was a sort of _sameness_ to most of the experiences. Almost all of them came down to Stiles being used as bait to get to the rest of the pack (except that one time, but really how was Stiles to have known that the guy who sat behind him in Psych 101 and constantly asked to borrow pens had developed a disturbing obsession with Stiles' hands, to the point of wanting to own them himself; and yes, apparently even without factoring werewolves into the equation, Stiles' life was fated to be something less than normal), and all of his abductors seemed to have something in common. This time, though, something was different, and different enough that it was leaving a lead weight of disquiet in the pit of his stomach.

These men weren't like the others he'd dealt with, who were mostly hunters who didn't follow the Code (and God the number of times he wanted to punch Chris Argent in the nose for his conviction that Kate and Gerard had been _anomalies_ ). These captors were human, no doubt about that, but there was no aura of anger or fear or even disgust like the hunters usually displayed. These men had been gleeful, practically vibrating with excitement over taking Stiles captive, and other than that one time, Stiles had always been the Means to the End, not the End Target himself, so it really made no sense for his captors to be so pleased with themselves.

A noise distracted him from his thoughts and he pushed himself into a crouch, his hands on the lid above him. He'd been trapped in this damned box long enough to come up with something approaching a plan and the minute he heard that lock click, he was going to be out of this thing like a jack-in-the-box. Voices, then footsteps and an odd dragging sound came from outside, and Stiles shifted into a better position, ready to spring. The moment he saw the lid starting to lift, he heaved with all his strength.

The lid flew up and over, but before it even crashed against the wall, Stiles found himself nose-to-nose with a very real, very terrifying gun.

"I would suggest you don't move."

Stiles squinted as his eyes attempted to adjust to the sudden light after being in darkness for so long, but other than that, he remained still. "Yeah, okay. This is me, not moving," he said, looking around the room. His heart dropped when he saw the figure dangling between two men a few feet away from where he was standing. He knew those blond curls. "Isaac."

"Sit down, please."

Stiles turned back to the first man whose pale blue eyes reminded him of ice. "Can we talk about this? I mean, you can tell me what you want, and I can tell you whether or not I can give it to you, and maybe come to some agreement. There's got to be something you want that I can help you with. What do you say?"

"If you make me tell you again, I'll simply shoot your companion before I put him in there with you. While I'm sure he will heal, I have no doubt that it will still hurt."

Stiles glared helplessly, but dropped back down into the box. Within moments he was scrambling back as Isaac was unceremoniously dumped on top of him. "Assholes! That fucking hurt!" he yelled as the lid was closed again. He bit his lip as he heard the lock snick back into place. 

"I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. I would imagine you'll be staying with us for a while."

"Fuck you," Stiles muttered as he heard the footsteps fading away. He wiggled and turned until he finally managed to get himself into a relatively comfortable position with Isaac's back to his chest and Isaac's head on his shoulder, Stiles' thighs bracketing Isaac's hips. Isaac was dead weight and Stiles almost panicked until he stilled enough to feel Isaac's chest expanding slightly with his breaths.

Then there was nothing, seemingly _hours_ of nothing. Isaac didn't move other than to breathe and Stiles was starting to get worried again. It took a lot to knock out a werewolf, and usually they regained consciousness pretty quickly. The longer Isaac remained unconscious, the more concerned Stiles became. "I really wish you'd wake up, dude."

After what seemed like ages, Isaac finally began to stir. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. You okay?"

A whimper tore from Isaac's throat and he began to flounder around, movements becoming more panicked and frantic as the moments passed. He kicked out hard which resulted in his body shoving back against Stiles', knocking the breath out of Stiles' lungs. Stiles began to thank whatever stars had aligned to ensure that Isaac wasn't at full strength or he'd probably be nursing cracked ribs at best. 

"Isaac, calm down! It's okay!" Stiles said, then shouted in pain as the back of Isaac's head connected with Stiles' cheekbone. Stiles tried wrapping his arms around Isaac's chest to calm him, but that just seemed to make things worse as Isaac's thrashing increased. Stiles felt a hand wrap around his thigh, then sucked in a breath at the sharp pain of claws digging into his flesh. Bright flashes of visions began to shoot through his head.

_Dropping a bowl and then cowering as Mr. Lahey shoved him backwards. Then the bright blossom of pain in his head as it connected with the corner of the table. "Clumsy idiot! Don't you know how much that cost? You think I'm made of money?"_

_Standing in front of Mr. Lahey, trembling as he handed over his report card, then curling down to make himself as small as possible as the fists rained down. "Stupid! Worthless! Never going to be worth anything!"_

_Staring in horror at the burned edges of the dish he had pulled out of the oven, then the bright, blinding pain of a belt snapping down against his back over and over. "Can't you do anything right? You should never have been born!"_

_Screaming desperately, begging and sobbing as he was thrown into the freezer and the lid came down. "Maybe this time I'll just let you rot in there. I'd be better off without you."_

Stiles gasped as the clawed his way back to reality. Not his thoughts. Not his memories.

Isaac's.

Stiles squeezed his eyes closed and frantically tried to calm his heartbeat. Against his chest Isaac had finally stopped struggling, but was breathing in broken sobs that ripped at Stiles' heart. 

"Hey man, shhh. It's okay. Isaac, it's okay. I'm here. You're not alone. I'm here." Stiles turned and twisted until he could get a hand up to run through Isaac's damp curls. "Come back to me, buddy. We're going to be okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here."

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the tremors rolling through Isaac's body began to diminish. Stiles wrapped an arm around Isaac's waist and continued running his fingers through Isaac's hair while he murmured reassurances. "It's okay. It's over. He can't hurt you anymore. He's gone. It's okay."

"Stiles?" Isaac's voice was like shattered glass

"Yeah, man. It's me." Stiles rubbed his cheek against Isaac's and lowered his arm to wrap around Isaac's chest in a hug. "I'm here. It's okay."

Isaac sucked in another breath. "Why is it dark?"

"Well, we're sort of stuck. And they took my phone, or I'd turn on a light. But it's okay. There's plenty of air, and even a little bit of light up at the top."

"Where are we?" Isaac's voice was weak, but he sounded much more calm. 

"I...don't actually know _specifics_. I wasn't really able to see much when they brought me in here. But hey, at least we're in this together, right? I mean, dude, if I had to be trapped in a metal box, I'm glad you're here with me."

Isaac gave a watery little laugh. "Don't take this the wrong way, Stiles, but I'm not. I'd rather be on the outside coming to your rescue."

"Yeah, some rescue this is." Stiles grinned even though Isaac couldn't see it. "When you came in, didn't you have a plan for getting back out?"

The small tremor that shook Isaac's body this time was obviously from suppressed laughter. "Don't quote Star Wars at me, Stiles."

Stiles chuckled. "Whatever, man. You know you love it." He shifted again, cursing the hard floor that was making his butt numb. Everything fell quiet and the only sound to be heard was the sound of cloth on metal and short, sharp breaths.

"Stiles," Isaac ground out finally. "Say something."

"Say what?"

"Anything! Just..." Isaac heaved a shuddering breath. "I just need to hear your voice."

Stiles frantically wracked his brain for something to fill the silence. "Umm, so should I tell you how my Chem test went? I think I passed it, but man I have a feeling that chemistry teachers all over the world hate me. I think Mr. Harris must have put out word on some kind of chemistry message board about me, and how important it was to make my life absolute hell. I mean, that last test I got every single multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank question correct and that jerk failed me on the essay. It was a perfect essay, and he failed me on it! And who the hell puts an essay question on a chemistry test? A sadist, that's who. I know it's just because he hates me. The next time I try to correct a professor in front of the entire class, make sure to remind me how much they dislike that."

Isaac's breathing was almost back to normal. "You should have learned that lesson already, Stiles. It doesn't exactly thrill Derek when you do it to him, either."

"Yeah, well, you'd think people in positions of authority would learn how to take constructive criticism, but noooo. Always have to be right. Ugh." He paused, then continued. "So how exactly did they get the drop on you?"

Isaac leaned his head back against Stiles' shoulder. "I'm not sure. One second I was over by the campus bookstore looking for you, then the next I felt this weird sting in my shoulder. It was some sort of dart. I pulled it out, but then everything went black."

Stiles frowned. "I thought drugs didn't work on werewolves," he said.

"So did I," Isaac answered. "But this one apparently does. It was so weird. It tasted like peppermints and cherries."

"Tasted? Wait, I thought you said it hit you in the shoulder."

"It did."

"If it hit you in the shoulder, how did you _taste_ it?" Stiles shook his head in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know, Stiles," Isaac said, "But I'm telling you, right before everything went dark, I tasted peppermint and cherries. I told you it was weird."

"Hmm." Stiles rolled the question over in his head, absently rubbing circles on Isaac's stomach as he did. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"I'm trying to figure out how you got shot in the arm, but were able to taste the drug that you were shot with. There's something that's just on the edge of my memory, something from Chem class, but I can't quite get it. Something about peppermint..." Stiles trailed off as Isaac let out a sound that, in a cat, would most definitely have been called a purr. "You okay?"

"Mmm-hmm." Isaac nodded, settling deeper into the cradle of Stiles' legs. "Keep going."

Stiles blinked in surprise at suddenly having a lap full of almost boneless werewolf. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to him. "Wait. So, how come they got you and they didn't get Scott?"

"Scott wasn't with me," Isaac said. 

"What do you mean he wasn't with you? Did you split up? You split up, didn't you. I thought we agreed there would be no splitting up in situations like this. Bad things always happen when you split up. Have you learned nothing from horror movies and Scooby Doo re-runs?"

"Stiles," Isaac broke in at last. "We didn't split up...exactly."

Stiles' eyebrows flew up. "Well, then what _exactly_ did you do?"

Isaac blew out a breath. "Scott was on the phone with Derek, and they were taking way too long, so I just left."

"You just left," Stiles said flatly.

"Mmm-hmm."

"You just left, to go look for me on your own, without any backup and without telling Scott where you were going."

"Yeah." Isaac's voice was sheepish.

"You realize you're going to get a Derek lecture for that, right?" Stiles asked, shaking his head. "And Scott's going to wear his disappointed face for at least a week."

Isaac sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, don't let him guilt you into taking his turn cleaning the bathroom more than twice. If you had been the one on the phone with Derek instead of Scott, he'd have done the exact same thing you did. So don't buy the guilt trip."

"Okay." 

Both were quiet for a few minutes, then Isaac spoke again. "Did you remember what you were trying to think of? About the drug?"

Stiles closed his eyes. It was almost there, if he could just... "No," he shook his head. "It's gone now. Maybe if I quit worrying at it, it will come to me."

"Sounds good," Isaac rumbled.

Okay, that was most definitely a purr. What the hell? Stiles opened his mouth to ask Isaac what was going on when he realized he had somehow managed to get his hand up under Isaac's t-shirt and that he was rubbing gentle circles over the smooth skin of Isaac's abs. 

"Really?" Stiles laughed. "Really man? Belly rubs?"

"Shut up," Isaac said. "Feels good. Don't stop."

"Yeah, okay dude. You know I'm not going to ever let you live this down, right."

"Keep talking. More rubbing."

Stiles snorted. "Demanding, aren't you?"

"It makes me feel less...less trapped."

Stiles felt his chest tighten. While he may not have deserved such a horrific death, Stiles had never found it in himself to mourn the death of Isaac's father. Having now experienced second-hand what Isaac had been through, he no longer even felt guilty for feeling that way.

"I like your hands," Isaac continued, threading his fingers through the fingers of Stiles' free hand. 

"What is everyone's obsession with my hands?" Stiles grumped, breathing against Isaac's neck. "I seriously do not understand this."

Isaac gave another soft purr. "You have nice hands," he said. "I like the way they feel."

Stiles' heart fluttered, but he faked a put-upon sigh. "Well, fine. As long as you don't want to keep them in a glass jar on your nightstand." He felt Isaac go very still before a low growl rolled through the box.

"Don't even joke," Isaac snarled quietly. "That will never be funny, and I will always think that bastard got off easy for what he tried to do to you."

"Whoa, hey! Okay, okay. Calm down." Stiles went back to rubbing his hand comfortingly over Isaac's stomach. "I won't bring it up again, I promise."

Isaac drew the tips of his fingers up and down Stiles' forearm. "I know you can take care of yourself most of the time, but I don't like thinking about you getting hurt."

"Believe me, man, it works both ways," Stiles said, light frustration coloring his voice. "You think I don't worry about you or Scott or, hell, even Derek? You guys take too many chances sometimes, and you don't _listen_."

"I listen," Isaac said, pressing himself back further, rubbing his back and hips against Stiles.

Aaand, okay, yeah, that was going to be a problem, Stiles thought to himself as his body immediately decided that being trapped in an enclosed space with a guy he'd been crushing on for over a year was an excellent time to _rise to the occasion_ so to speak. Stiles mentally berated his dick for over-enthusiasm while trying to unobtrusively straighten himself up and away from the temptation of grinding his hips into Isaac's backside.

Unfortunately, it only worked for approximately ten seconds before Isaac was shifting as well to press himself back into that warmth again.

Stiles closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to slow his heart rate enough that Isaac wouldn't figure out what was going on. Isaac had just been through a pretty traumatic experience, and he was still probably not completely okay despite the fact that he seemed much calmer now that Stiles was giving him belly rubs, and come on, Stiles was supposed to be comforting his friend, not trying to get in his pants. On top of everything else, the middle of an abduction scenario was not really the best venue for this sort of thing.

I mean, sure there was that one time, okay two times, or maybe four, where he'd enjoyed that fantasy of being held captive with Isaac and having to perform exhibitionist sex before being released, but fantasies were totally harmless. This, this right here might actually do some damage, if not to their friendship, then definitely to Stiles' heart. He'd worked hard at keeping his feelings under wraps for fear of damaging his friendship with Isaac - not an easy thing to do when you lived with two werewolves - and now here he was trapped in a metal box and losing control. Not exactly fantasy material.

Isaac wiggled again. "You stopped. Don't stop."

Stiles started moving his hand again, biting back a groan at the feel of smooth skin over hard muscle underneath the palm of his hand, the dim light actually enhancing the experience. The inability to see clearly seemed to make everything else more intense. He rested his chin on Isaac's shoulder next to the elegant, pale expanse of Isaac's neck, chanting to himself in his head, _'Don't lick, don't lick, don't lick.'_

Isaac wiggled again, and Stiles could tell the moment Isaac clued in on what was happening with Stiles' body. The purr stopped and Isaac went very still.

Stiles bit his lip, then leaned his head back against the metal of the wall. "Sorry."

Isaac was silent for a long minute, then whispered, "Why?"

"Well, I mean, you're right here, and you're cuddled up close to me and you're so warm and you feel so good, and god, your skin is just so smooth and you even smell good, dammit, and it just, I mean, I didn't mean for it...I wasn't trying...I mean, I was trying to not...fuck." He knocked the back of his head against the wall in frustration at his inability to find the right words.

"No," Isaac said, speaking so softly that even in the silence Stiles had to strain to hear. He folded a hand around the hand Stiles was still gently rubbing against his stomach and slowly moved it down. "I meant, why are you sorry." 

Stiles' breath stuttered in his chest as his hand moved down over the fly of Isaac's jeans and he felt the thick, hard length beneath the denim. His hips twitched involuntarily as his palm pressed down. He felt as much as heard the hiss Isaac gave when Isaac's hips mimicked the movement.

Stiles licked his lips. "So, ummm, this is new."

Isaac shrugged. "Not really."

Stiles blinked. "Wait. You mean you've thought about this before? Well, not _this_ , not being trapped in a box, but _this_ ," he pressed his palm firmly against the front of Isaac's jeans and rubbed. "You've thought about this? With me?"

Isaac nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

"Since when?"

"Last year."

Stiles squeaked in indignation, then squirmed around until he was straddling Isaac's hips and glaring down in the dim light. "Last _year_?" He planted his hands on the wall, one on either side of Isaac's head. "You mean to tell me I've been fantasizing about you for over a year and all this time... Why didn't you _say_ something?"

Isaac shrugged, looking a little baffled at the sudden turn in the conversation. "I didn't want to screw up our friendship." He frowned. "How come _you_ didn't say anything?"

Stiles clung to his glare for a few moments longer, then gave up with a small laugh. "Same reason." He shook his head. "We're certainly a pair, aren't we?"

The grin that tilted the corners of Isaac's mouth was both hesitant and amused. He reached up and tugged Stiles gently down. "Well, not yet," he said. "But we're certainly getting there."

The kiss was tentative at first, as though neither one of them was certain it would be welcomed. Lips brushed, then parted. A tongue flicked out, retreated, then cautiously returned. 

Within moments, the embrace turned heated. Stiles groaned as he felt Isaac's hands wrap around his hips, pulling them down to match the rocking of Isaac's own. Electric pleasure sizzled through his system, leaving him tingling from fingertips to toes. He moaned again, then broke the kiss. "Wait. Wait, hold on."

Isaac's hands clenched, but he stopped moving. "What? What's wrong?"

"Okay, look," Stiles said, breathing hard. "Not that I don't want this, because holy GOD, I want this, but we have no idea how long we're going to be trapped in here. Even though I know that either someone will find us, or you'll recover enough of your strength to get us out, I really don't want to spend the next few hours, or however long we're stuck here, sitting in cold, sticky underwear."

Isaac stared up at him in utter silence for about thirty seconds, then he burst into laughter. "Oh my god. Oh my _god_ Stiles. For all we know they're going to kill us in the next ten minutes, and you're worried about coming in your pants?"

Stiles frowned. "It's a legitimate concern. I have no intention of dying here, or of you dying either. I'm sure Scott or Derek or someone in the pack will find us eventually, which means a mess in my pants is a legitimate concern. Do you know how uncomfortable that is? I mean, if we can somehow avoid that, I really think we should try, because dude, I'm not joking, it's really uncomfortable."

Isaac kept chuckling, but finally nodded. "Okay, fine. What do you suggest? I can't really get you in a position where I could get my mouth on you."

Stiles felt every muscle in his body twitch as another bolt of lust shot through him. "Fuck. Isaac, you don't...you can't just _say_ things like that. Christ."

Isaac's smile turned vaguely wicked. "Oh, I can think of a lot of things I want to say to you," he murmured against Stiles' lips. "A lot of things I want to do to you, too, now that I know the feelings are mutual."

"If you make me come in my pants, I am never going to forgive you."

Isaac shook with suppressed laughter again. "Okay, look, if we just -"

"OW!" Stiles jerked back as an elbow hit his shoulder. "No, don't move that way, you'll only -"

Isaac grunted loudly as Stiles' knee made contact with his ribs. "You know, if you would just sit back a little, I could probably -"

"Aaaah! Lift up! Lift up! You're going to break my foot!"

"Well, why the hell is it under my ass?"

"Why is your ass off the floor in the first place? Sit the hell down!"

"I'm _trying_! You told me I was about to break your foot!"

Five minutes and uncountable bruises later, Stiles stopped and glared. "You know what? Never mind. Just make me come in my pants."

Isaac stared in disbelief. Then the stare turned into a grin. The grin slowly blossomed into a snicker, which eventually bloomed into a full-blown laugh. 

Stiles tried to hold on to his dignity, and his irritation, but listening to Isaac laugh made it impossible to stay grumpy. Some day he was going to record that laugh, and just keep it on his phone to listen to any time he was feeling down. 

When he finally managed to regain control of himself, Isaac leaned forward and kissed Stiles again. "Let's try it this way," he said, reaching down to unbutton the front of Stiles' jeans. "Lift up just a little."

Stiles put his hands on Isaac's shoulders and lifted his hips while trying to keep from knocking his head on the lid of the box. He shivered lightly at the chill air on his skin. "Can you get yours?"

"Yeah," Isaac nodded, quickly unzipping his own jeans and wiggling around to get them and his boxer briefs down his hips. "Okay, lean up this way just a little and move your legs back."

The position was certainly not the most comfortable that Stiles had ever been in, but when Isaac's hand wrapped around his cock, everything else flew right out of his head. He sucked in a breath and transferred most of his weight to one arm before using the other hand to return the favor. 

Isaac groaned loudly and thrust his hips up hard before settling back down. "God, I told you I loved your hands."

Stiles laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, well, at the time this wasn't really what I was thinking you had planned for them."

"I have some other plans," Isaac said, pumping and twisting his own hand around Stiles' length, "But we don't really have room for it here."

Stiles' heart started pounding harder. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you."

"Nope," Isaac said, licking a stripe up the side of Stiles' neck. "Just trying to make you come." He flicked his thumb over the leaking tip, drawing another deep moan from Stiles throat. "And it sounds like I'm doing a pretty good job."

"Very good job," Stiles panted, tightening his grip and giving his wrist a quick little twist. "Very, very good job."

Coherent sentences failed them both at that point, their words consisting of nothing more than "faster," "tighter," and "oh, _fuck_ just like that" until Stiles felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. The heat wound tighter and tighter and every muscle in his body tensed, before that electric pleasure surged once again leaving him shaking and whimpering as he came hard over the firm planes of Isaac's stomach. He vaguely registered Isaac's muffled shout of completion and the press of teeth against his throat, not quite hard enough to break skin, and felt warm wetness sliding over his hand. 

After a few minutes to catch his breath, Stiles tried to move into a better position, wincing when his knees complained at the abuse they'd suffered while he was enjoying himself. He looked down at the mess on Isaac's belly, visible even in the faint light, and pursed his lips. "Well, our clothes are still dry, but what are we going to do about that?"

Isaac wrinkled his nose. "You're wearing two shirts. Give me one of them."

"Aww, man, but this is my favorite button up. Lydia gave it to me for Christmas last year." At Isaac's utterly unimpressed look, Stiles sighed and twisted around until he could get the shirt off. "Fine. Here. But don't you ever, _ever_ tell her what we used it for."

~~~

Time was dragging. From his position still straddling Isaac's hips, Stiles shifted until he was sitting up as much as possible. "What time do you think it is?"

"After dawn," Isaac answered, rubbing a hand against Stiles' back. "Moon's almost full and I felt it go down a little while ago." He was quiet for a minute, then brushed his thumb over Stiles' cheek. "Hey Stiles?"

"Hmm?"

Isaac smiled. "I guess I'm glad I got trapped in here with you after all."

Stiles felt a grin almost split his face. "I'm the best abduction partner you'll ever have."

Isaac laughed. "Here's hoping I don't ever need one again."

"Stiles!" 

"Isaac!"

"In here!" Stiles yelled, banging on the lid of the box and grinning as he heard both Derek and Scott shouting. He looked down at Isaac. "Told you they'd find us."

Isaac nodded. "So you did," he said, then lifted his head for a quick, soft kiss that ended just as the lid to the box was wrenched back with a loud scream of twisted metal. 

Stiles blinked in the sudden light, then took Isaac's hand, allowing Isaac to pull him to his feet. "About time you guys got here. We've been waiting forever."

Derek sniffed, gave them both an odd look, then the corners of his mouth began to twitch. "Well, I'm sure you made good use of the time."

Scott was shaking his head as he helped his best friend out of the box. "Seriously, Stiles?" he muttered. "In the middle of being kidnapped?"

Stiles was certain his face was beet red, but he held his head high as Isaac took his hand and laced their fingers together. "You're just jealous of my outstanding multitasking abilities."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Derek murmured. He shook his head then turned to lead them out of the building. "Don't forget your shirt."

~~~

Across town, in a dimly-lit room, a man pushed his chair back from a computer station, crossing his arms over his chest and pressing a finger to his lips. "Well, well. That was certainly enlightening."

He turned his head slightly, cold blue eyes almost glowing in the light from the computer monitor as he addressed the figure standing to his left. "It seems your mistake of taking the human instead of the other werewolf resulted in some interesting revelations. Perhaps I won't kill you after all."

The figure breathed out a sigh of relief, a sheen of sweat still coating his skin. "Th-thank you, sir."

The first man turned back to the computer screen. "Go find Thomas and get the secondary site ready. I think this warrants some additional study. Oh, and Joshua," he continued, in a voice that turned his companion's insides to ice, "Don't fail me again."


End file.
